The Scaffold Waltz

Chapter III

Electrifying kisses and strong urges to let the soul and body take control was all so overwhelming. It was like fire, fire that could breathe.

Serge, lightheaded and totally disillusioned to what position he was currently in, simply rested under Gilbert's slender frame of a body, never once taking his sights away from the blonde.

Their eyes locked again. This time, it was a look of pure agreement.

"Hmm...I guessed right. You are a virgin are you not?" Gilbert smirked evilly. "I would rather do it with you for free if you were at least half alive rather then do it with a statue!" Serge snapped back to reality; his head ached with utter perplexity and pain.

"W-What?" Serge whispered.

Gilbert stared at the boy below him. There was something about his voice that made Gilbert shiver. I was a gentle voice, a voice of gentility and compassion, unlike some of Gilbert's earlier clients. The frown on the prostitute's face grew dimmer and transformed into something more sensitive.

"G-Get off of me," Serge said in a tone above a whisper. "Please, Gilbert, get off." Tears dwelled up in Serge's dark brown eyes, continuing down his flushed cheeks. Gilbert did as he was told before Serge finished his request. "G-Gilbert? Why?"

Terror filled Gilbert's heart. Usually, when Gilbert engaged in human desires, he was often the one who ended up crying, sometimes after money was thrown upon him. This time, however, it was different. He heard himself crying in the deep chambers of his mind. Flashbacks of the deepest pain and terror clouded his thoughts, unaware that Serge had already ran out of the room, slamming the door.

"Weak...that's what I am," Gilbert chocked back on premature tears. "I am horrible...completely horrible." He broke down with tears and a broken heart. That look on Serge's face was something of the likes that Gilbert has never seen before. All the love he delivered was forced or reluctant, not adoring and true. A jolt of compassion was felt with Serge's name whispered between the blonde's rosy lips. "No! No, not him! I cannot be falling for him! I just knew him for a few hours! There is no way of telling what someone like him might do to me!" But Gilbert's false cover up was cast into nothingness as he smiled, kissed his hand upon which Serge's tear trickled. Now he knew what love at first sight meant. It all started when he first saw the nervous, dark-skinned boy on the dirt road. God allowed this, so it must not go to waste. "I-I do not want to be sad anymore...I do not want to cry anymore, to do this anymore. Forget the money, forget the pleasure." Looking up at the cracked ceiling, ribbons of silver dropping from his eyes, Gilbert swallowed hard. "I am in love with him, with Serge." Without another thought, Gilbert threw on the rest of his azure colored garment, down the stairs and made his way to the exit. Many people were enjoying themselves, many tipsy and having a grand old time.

"Gilbert, my dear child, where are you going? Not home, I hope." Ms. LeEteneix called out over a floating sea of heads, some with gaudy hats on them. Gilbert turned to meet her stare and said nothing. He shot her a sad look and shut the door behind him silently. "My goodness," she said to herself. "He and Serge did not have a fight, did they?" Suddenly, a gentle voice interrupted Ms. LeEteneix train of thoughts.

"Ms. LeEteneix, do you know where I can find Serge? I have not seen him for over an hour."

"Maybel, dear," Ms. LeEteneix said with a smile, "are you having a good time?"

Maybel quickly nodded as her face lighting up like a hundred candles all aflame. "Oh, yes indeed!"

"You are looking for Serge, you said?"

"You seem rather worried, if I may say, my Lady," Maybel frowned. "Is anything amiss?"

"I do believe so, Maybel, my dear. I am worried if Serge and his new friend may have gotten into a disagreement upstairs. Serge has not come downstairs after he and...Gilbert? Yes, Gilbert, have gone upstairs together. Rather strange I say. Gilbert left as if he was stricken with something dreadful."

"Oh, no," Maybel whispered soft enough so that her host did not hear her. "I will go check on Serge to make sure he is well enough to come back down to the party."

"You do that, dear," replied Ms. LeEteneix, patting Maybel on her head as if she was a newborn puppy. "I am sure if you went to see him he is bound to be on his feet again." Maybel smiled a half smile as she left to go upstairs to Serge's room. 'My, it is unbelievable how identical Maybel and Gilbert look, except for Maybel's long, blonde hair. It will be difficult to tell them apart if the long hair was cut short on Maybel's head. Then, it will be hard to tell them apart at all. My, what a small world,' thought Ms. LeEteneix before she started talking with a wealthy countess dressed in yellow.

"Serge?" Maybel knocked on Serge's bedroom door gingerly before opening it, finding nothing but the cold darkness. "Serge? Are you in here?" She walked in one step after another. Looking around, her eyes stopped on the figure of someone limped on the bed. "Serge? Are you asleep?" Her white hand trembled as she went to touch Serge's forehead before he looked up and shouted for her to get away.

"No! Stay away! Can you not see that this is not love but lust!" Serge cried out, waving his hand before Maybel, signaling her to stay back and not to take another step. Maybel's face had her eyebrows raised, her eyes wide, and her mouth quivering.

"Serge! W-What are you saying? What is going on?" Serge cried out, tears gushing from his brown eyes like an out of control waterfall.

"Please! Can you not see this is not what I want! It is true, true that I love you!" Since Maybel looked like an exact replica of Gilbert, Serge clenched her by her collar of lace and beaded fabric, thinking it was Gilbert himself. Almost raising her off the floor with his hands, Serge continued shouting, almost to the point of screaming. "I want you to understand me! Do not use me to you own vain pleasure!"

"Stop! Serge! Please, let me go! Please!" Maybel pleaded in tears. She was all at sea; she had no idea what her friend was talking about.

"I thought I could never love someone as strongly as you! You have no idea how much you frightened me! No idea at all! You haunt my every thought! Even in my own blackened fear, I still see you! You witch! You undying, lovely, and beautiful witch...you do this to me...frighten me...seduce me...make me love you...at first sight..." Serge dropped Maybel back to her feet as he let out a robust fit of screams, holding his hands over his face.

"Stop! Serge! Look at me! Look at me!" Maybel shouted, trying to calm him down. She wrestled to get her arms on his shoulders and shake him back to his senses. Serge's hands parted, making him see Maybel's face, but all he saw was Gilbert's face close to his, emitting more gentle kisses as soft as silk.

"You are here again," Serge whispered, trembling at each word. "You came back!"

"Huh? What are you talking about, Serge?" Maybel asked, trying her hardest to calm him. "I am right here for you...right here, Serge." Maybel helped Serge to his bed where he fell and started crying softly. Maybel caressed Serge's forehead with her delicate hand and fingers as she started to sing to him tenderly.

Serge started coming down to his senses as soon as he saw Maybel over his shoulder with his teary eyes; however, his tears blinded him for a moment, and it was not Maybel he saw, but Gilbert, smiling and allowing the mature moonlight radiate upon his effeminate figure.

"Gilbert..." Serge called out sleepily.

Maybel's eyes widened, her eyes mixed with both shock and sadness. "Gilbert?"

"Yes...that is you...you are the one that said you loved me...is that not so, Gilbert?" Serge smiled, falling back on his pillows as if succumbing to Gilbert's seduction once more, spreading out his arms and tilting back his head to show the soft, smooth flesh of his neck.

'He is possessed!' Maybel thought. 'He is gone mad!' "Serge?"

"Yes, Gilbert? I am here..."

"No! I am not Gilbert, Serge! I am Maybel! Can you not see who I am?"

"You are you, and I am I, what else matters? You and I have found one another..." With that, Serge started to break out in a fit of screaming. Maybel, again, tried her hardest not to scream in unison with her friend, but he was getting out of hand. Maybel decided to do something she would never dream of doing before. Leaning over Serge, without getting hit with a flying hand of his, Maybel kissed his forehead.

Serge fell silent.

"He is finally calmed down," Maybel said to herself. "What happened to him?" Maybel touched her lips, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks, spreading a dark crimson color into them both. 'He feels so good,' she thought. 'But, he does not see me. He saw that boy Gilbert, not me. It is that that hurts the most, a kiss of another reflection. Serge...you have never acted like this before.' Maybel's face froze, her breath was shortened. 'Before Gilbert showed up..."

"Maybel! What is going on up here?" cried a voice hurrying up the stairs. The cry belonged to Ms. LeEteneix. Maybel quickly got up and covered Serge with a plaid blanket then fluffed his pillows. With the door swinging open in a flash, Ms. LeEteneix, followed by Anne, scurried into the dark room finding Maybel's silhouette next to the shadowed bed. "Maybel? What is all the noise happening in here? Are you alright, my dear girl?"

"Yes, I am fine. Serge just had a nightmare that is all. I came to check on him to make doubly sure he was doing well," Maybel lied with a smile. Anne narrowed her eyes, disbelieving her younger sister, no matter how good of a liar she was.

"Very well," Ms. LeEteneix continued, going back toward the door. "Thank-you very much, Maybel. You are such a good friend to my little Serge. Let us let him sleep in peace." Maybel flinched a little on the word "friend" but decided to follow her older sister and Ms. LeEteneix out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Anne pulled Maybel over into another equally as dark room as Ms. LeEteneix disappeared down the stairs and into the crowd of party guests.

"Maybel, what really happened in there?" Anne persistently asked Maybel, whose eyes were cast down to her buckled shoes. "Answer me, sister."

"No, nothing happened," Maybel said defensively, still avoiding Anne's stare. "Serge just had a nightmare, nothing more."

"You are a good liar to others, but I am you older sister and I have played that game before you. I know the ropes, so tell me what all the screaming was in there for? Do not tell me you two were-"

"No, goodness no!" Maybel whispered. "I went looking for Serge about an hour ago, went up to his room and he started acting like a possessed madman. He frightened me," Maybel said as tears slid down her eyes. Anne hugged her little sister comfortingly. "It was after that boy Gilbert left the room that-"

"Wait!" Anne interrupted. "Who left the room before?"

"Serge's new friend, Gilbert."

"The one who looks exactly like you?"

"Yes."

"Why was Serge screaming, Maybel? Was he hurt?"

"No. He was frantically accusing me of a matter of love and how I tried to take advantage of him, even though I was not, I swear it." Maybel shook her head over and over, convinced that she was dealing with something beyond her control, maybe her comprehension. "But..."

"But?" Anne emphasized, putting her hands on Maybel's shoulders, shaking her slightly.

"He kept calling me Gilbert, not Maybel," she said frowning. "To him, Gilbert was still there."

"Where is this new boy?" Anne asked.

"He left the party before I went up to see Serge. He was the last person with Serge at the time."

Anne stood mute for several moments, staring with glassy-eyes at Maybel, who gazed at her feet, shaking like an early earthquake about to break loose.

"You said Serge was screaming like a mad person, Maybel?" Anne asked as her tone returned to a normal, kind one. Maybel answered with a half-nod. Anne decided to leave the matter alone, seeing that nobody was hurt and Serge was now fast asleep. Both sisters went back downstairs as a circle of guests began to dance in grand merriment.

A few feet from where Anne and Maybel stood, a shadowed figure emerged from the still darkness, the pale moonlight outlining a sinister smirk upon a smooth face. The stranger was Gabriella Brecht, a girl of Serge, Gilbert, and Maybel's age who was of medium height. She had medium length brown, curly hair and a pair of cold, dark eyes.

"A mad person, eh?" she sneered with an icy tone. "My dear, naïve Maybel, I am afraid Serge did not go mad intentionally. I believe the cause was something upon only a boy that could resemble you so much could accomplish. An almost perfect copy of someone else is common in the old tales of witchcraft in our country. And witchcraft, of course, never went unpunished. Gilbert, eh? Sounds like not only did they do more than "talk" in that room, but it seems Serge has encountered a beautiful witch, to cast his heart only to succumb to the darkness." Gabriella stopped, turned the corner to peek at Anne and Maybel sitting at the food table, drinking a toast to who knows what. "Oh, my, is this not the sweetest, most twisted thing you have ever seen? Serge has fallen in love with not only a possible witch, but a no good prostitute as well." She let a small chuckle pass her lips. "And prostitutes, as well as witches, must all die slow and painful deaths. As Anne's closest friend, I have to look out for her younger sister, making sure she does not get herself tangled in a web involving a whore who uses magic for evil...do not worry, Maybel...I will get rid of that troublesome eye sore. I will see to it that you and Serge lived happily ever after, unlike my elder sister...that whore!"

TBC...